To Paint A Smile
by LadySith2019
Summary: The English town of Rochester bustles with gossip as the Theatre is restored and reopened by Mr. Levour and an unknown masked composer. While making his musical dream a reality, Erik encounters something that might change the way the world sees him forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! For those of you who have followed me through my other POTO fanfics, thank you for returning! Sorry for the long disappearance-I started an art business and have been extremely busy, as well as having a long Writer's Block.**

 **This chapter is the rough draft and will probably be better edited later. I can't promise that I'll post often, though I'll try at least once per week. Reviews truly help motivate me so that I know that someone enjoys my writing (hint, hint). I do promise that I will finish this story, as I have finished all of my others. I can't stand when authors leave me hanging and abandon their work.**

 **Without further delay, I present to you my latest fanfic.**

 **-Brittany**

*I do not own any of the characters from Phantom of the Opera, only new ones that I create.

Painted

Ch. 1

If one could catch a glimpse of the infamous Phantom of the Opera on his journey in the night, one would surely be consumed by fear.

He walked along as Death in the blackness. Cold, haunting, and silent. Deliberate. He looked the part, as well; concealed by a black cloak that allowed him to become one with the shadows. If one looked closely, they might see a faint glimmer of the porcelain mask in the moonlight, if only for a brief second.

He pulled at his hood gently with black leathered gloves to mask his visage. The darkness was his greatest ally in that it allowed him to walk to his destination without being noticed. He had taken advantage of the late hour in order to not be met with any hinderance.

A noise nearby made him reconsider his confidence-at least, he had presumed to be the only one awake. Now he might have to become true Death among mortals, he thought.

After assuring himself that it had passed, he closed the distance between himself and the massive oak doors to the estate before him. He cast one final glance at the midnight sky, giving his silent appreciation to the night. The moon, glowing its ethereal light, had long been his companion, for it had always served as a sign that it was safe to walk among the living.

The symphony of crickets that played their long-legged instruments was overshadowed by the few discreet knocks on the door made by his own slender fingers. He replaced the black leather glove and waited most impatiently to be received.

The Phantom of the Opera would neither have made a public appearance nor have taken such a direct approach merely one year ago, and certainly his haunting demeanor would have alarmed anyone who caught sight of him. The servant who had allowed him to step foot into the threshold of the vast and towering estate at such a late hour, however; did nothing more than raise a thick grey and bushy eyebrow out of curiosity in his direction. He then proceeded to lead this ghost to another door, as he knew his master to be expecting this visitor, even if he was a peculiar one.

"My Master will be with you, shortly," his deep, aged voice announced to the shadow-of-a-guest.

Erik felt most uncomfortable as the servant remained in his presence, being watched carefully. It was a game of cat and mouse, and for once, he was not entirely certain of who the cat was. Before he could decide his position, a large red-haired man had opened the door and quickly ushered him into the room of which Erik immediately recognized to be a private study.

As the door closed behind them and the two men made their way to the other side of the room, Erik glanced around himself with apprehension. The multitude of books on the shelves all around him seemed to pass judgement upon him, glaring silently at him to turn back; he was teetering on the edge of regret for making himself known to anyone. How unlike his character it was to place himself in such a vulnerable position, and he instinctively calculated all of the ways in which he could make his escape or overtake the man, if need be.

"Mr. Destler, please, sit," the man gestured to an emerald velvet armchair in front of his large mohagony desk.

Erik watched the dim candlelight flicker across this man's swelling features; a round nose, a large forehead, curling red hair, and equally-fiery-colored facial hair. His mustache was curled at the ends, giving him an air of the love of grandiose things. This man was rather short and overweight, and so Erik had determined him to be of little threat, if at all, for he could easily out-maneuver him.

With this reassurance lingering in his mind, he seated himself, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. The man could now catch a glimpse of the attire beneath Erik's cloak-everything black, from the cravat and undershirt to his waistcoat and pants.

He looks a character that one might find haunting rooms at night, albeit a ghost with fine taste in attire, the man thought to himself in amusement (if only he had known how true his thoughts were, for he was unaware that this sort of thing had exactly happened years before!).

"I have quite anticipated our first flesh-and-bone encounter, Mr. Destler," he stated. "I admit that, after months of correspondance through our letters, I imagined what a talented composer such as yourself might look like, but I did not imagine this," he gestured to the black hooded figure. "A black cloak? A white mask? Why such theatricality?"

"Mr. Levour, does theatricality not fit well in the theatre, and we are considering the purchase of a theatre, are we not?" Erik replied with dry sarcasm. "Allow me to remind you, once again, that I wish for my identity to remain anonymous-all that is required of you in order to fill your pocketbook is to agree to partner with me financially and to invest in our theatre. In time, perhaps, I will reveal myself to you, but until then I expect to have my requirements obeyed."

Mr. Levour frowned slightly but nodded in acknowledgement. "Of course; please excuse my prying, Mr. Destler. I do not wish to miss such a grand opportunity here, after all; I have reviewed the sample of your work with both a conductor, as well as a dear friend of mine who has an eye for music, and I daresay that we are all in agreement that your work is unsurmountable. To have you as co-owner and sole provider of the operas held within the theatre would be a decision most wise. This town has not seen such beautiful entertainment in a long while."

Erik ignored the man's polite flattery, eager to discuss the details. "Have you taken the steps necessary to secure the purchase of the building?"

"I have inspected the abandoned theatre to the best of my ability-it really is in decent condition for having been empty for nearly three years, as the previous owner could not bear to watch it fall apart-poor man, he lost a large gamble and all of his fortune, but that is a story for another time-and we have been given an excellent price! There is a bit of paperwork and legality to fulfill, but I should think that we will be the owners of Rochester Theatre by the end of the week," he explained.

How ironic, Erik thought, for he himself had left a theatre abandoned nearly three years prior. He wondered if anyone would ever choose to restore the Opera Populaire the way in which he and Mr. Levour planned to restore the theatre in the English town of Rochester. Perhaps not, for the place was hopeless without his operas to draw in the crowds. Any owner that would take on the task of rebuilding would be forced to have small plays and inconsequential ballets performed for lack of a genius composer.

This was all without mention of the fact that Mrs. DeChagny (the words left a bitter taste in his mouth) could never be the star performer, for she and her beloved husband were preoccupied with the task of raising their newly-born child. No theatre would ever be able to enjoy the softness of her voice again.

Erik pushed the bitter thoughts from his mind, reminding himself that he was now thousands of miles away from his former life and building a new one for himself. Even if he had resigned himself to never fall in love again-as if it were even an option for him-he could at least build the musical empire that he had always longed for. And perhaps a bit more money spent on luxuries and possessions couldn't hurt, he thought.

"Good," Erik nodded his head slowly. A dark smile played upon his lips, for his plan was beginning to take place. "And how much time do you think it will require to restore it?"

Erik was only asking to analyze his companion's ability to make a good business partner, for he himself had already found a way to slip into the desolate theatre the previous night unnoticed in order to assess the damage and costs. After all, he was a skilled architect and had built many of the Populaire's corridors and hidden rooms, which was something he was considering for the Rochester Theatre to follow suit. It might be useful to him to have at least one room that he could use, should he wish to view the performances without having to make tiresome conversation with anyone.

"I remember you mentioning that you have a background in theatre, so you of all people should know that it will take some time. The cosmetic aspect of it will be no trouble at all-simply a bit of money invested into a few replacements and furnishings-but finding a cast...well, that is the difficult part of it all," Mr. Levour replied.

Erik nodded. "I wish to be present for the auditions. I will not have a simple-minded buffoon singing my compositions."

"Yes, we did agree that we could play upon this anonymity that you so desire. Perhaps it might actually be a selling point; a sort of artistic expression, if you will. I see no trouble in you accompanying me in the decisions of the cast."

Erik was confident in that Mr. Levour was both an intelligent and discerning man, and with the weakness for wealth, he knew that he would always have the upper hand to bribe and control him, should the situation arise. Yes, his plans were coming together nicely.

"Then we shall meet again next week."


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a very long chapter, but hopefully you'll enjoy!**

Ch 2

The town buzzed with gossip and excitement as the long-abandoned Rochester Theatre had life breathed into it once more. Many wondered why on earth two men would ever invest their wealth in the performing arts of such a small town, but with a larger city not three hours away, the theatre would certainly draw travelers and nearby residents if it suceeded. As difficult as it was to imagine that it would ever be good enough to reimburse the owners of its running costs, the townspeople were at least hopeful that there would be something to entertain them for a short while.

The formerly-quarantined exterior of the building had its boards removed from the windows, glass replaced, and a fresh coat of ivory-colored paint, causing passersby to marvel at the elegant chandeliers that could be seen from the windows.

For many months, Mr. Levour and Mr. Destler had had skilled laborers and workers not only clean all of the dust and cobwebs inside, but also saw that the statues that could be repaired were, decorative accents were replaced, and even laid down a brilliant soft pink marble floor.

Erik had insisted that gold foiled leaves and roses be placed on all of the staircase railings and had chosen a lovely gold brocade wallpaper; Mr. Levour was grateful that his partner had such luxurious and wonderful taste, as the theatre now seemed to be a palace that one could step into and forget about the world.

While the renovation had been accomplished, they found themselves sorely lacking in finding a proper cast, as well as the musicians who would play in the orchestra. Remodeling had finished after six months, yet they had held auditions and searched for talent for nearly four months more. Erik, although not depleted of finances, had begun to lose his patience. He would never be able to see his masterpieces performed and his dream executed as reality if they could not find the talent required.

"We must raise the bid for salaries," he concluded.

Mr. Levour, who was seated in a nearby crimson velvet chair in the auditorium, sighed in exasperation as he rifled through the papers in his lap. Before the pair stood the large stage in which they had just concluded another day's worth of auditions for the lead role, unsuccessfully.

Erik turned his head slightly to glance upon all of the empty seats behind their row with sadness. How long he had waited for the day when they would be filled with an audience who yearned to hear his work!

"I daresay that this is tiring, indeed. But if we offer a larger sum, why that is simply unheard of in a small theatre such as ours! We cannot rival the pay of a large and successful business, let alone in the performing arts, when we are just opening," Mr. Levour replied.

Erik turned back to him to see the worry written on his features. Had Mr. Levour been a passionate man, Erik would have been somewhat relieved to see that his business partner cared so much about the welfare of the Opera theatre. But he knew this not to be the case, for Mr. Levour was simply concerned that his investment would not return and that he had lost a large sum of money.

"We raise the prices for the roles, travel to a few nearby towns to hold auditions, and we should be able to open before the year's end," Erik determined.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Mr. Levour said.

Erik's plan had worked, and before a few more months had passed, they were able to secure not only enough cast members, but also their entire orchestra. Mr. Levour had convinced the consulting conductor of Erik's work-an older man who lived an hour away-to join them, as well as an oustanding violinist. Even the male lead had gained Erik's approval-an Italian man by the name of Giovanni who was in his late thirties and donned a thick black moustache.

One day, Mr. Levour and Mr. Destler were seated in their usual spots as they dismissed yet another woman from the stage. They were growing exhausted from their efforts of finding the lead.

Erik noticed a young woman with blonde hair pinned high upon her head standing in the doorway, and Mr. Levour also turned to look.

"I suppose I should handle this," he said. Erik watched him leave his seat to attend to the inquiring lady, and he could faintly overhear the conversation.

"Ah, good day, Ms. Thornfield! What can I assist you with? Have you come for a tour of the place? It is such a grand theatre, but it is not open to the public at this moment. What with the lack of a proper lead. But perhaps we could make an exception for you-"

"Yes, this theatre is quite extraordinary, which is why I simply had to pay a visit when I saw the advertisement on the door," she replied with a smile.

"Well, I suppose that we could conclude the auditions for today, as they weren't too fruitful, anyway-"

"Mr. Levour, you have me mistaken. I wish to apply for the part," she tried to peek a glance at the dark figure sitting in the auditorium, but Erik had turned around and pretended not to notice her.

Mr. Levour's eyebrows slightly raised. "Oh, my apologies! It is just that I am certain that you have a lovely voice, but I would never have guessed that you would wish to join a theatre. Do come in!"

As she was ushered down the aisle, she pulled at the ivory-colored shawl that rested at her elbows and smiled with confidence.

Blanche Thornfield was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Rochester, and with a large dowry it was an enigma as to why she was not yet married. It was certainly not for lack of suitors, for men were even known to have come from nearby towns to attempt to court her.

She had a selection of nearly any man of her choosing, yet she had not found one perfectly to her liking to be worth her time, besides; she enjoyed the attention and pursuit far too much to relinquish her freedom. Regardless, Mr. Levour knew her to be a bit vain and materialistic; certainly she did not appear to be a lover of the fine arts.

After she had been encouraged to take her place on the stage, her eyes settled on Erik as she determined to figure out his character.

"Is this the infamous composer? I see now why the town is bustling with gossip," she said. "I myself did not believe that there was a man dressed in a mask to conceal his identity, but I must admit that it adds a bit of mystery to this place that will pique the curiosity of everyone. Well done, gentlemen. You've seemed to have risen this theatre from the dead."

Erik thought about how fitting it would have been had he worn his skull mask instead of the black velvet one that covered the majority of his face. While he had been very tempted to wear his red death attire, he knew that it might frighten away potential customers, and so he had settled upon wearing an extravagant gold silk vest, white cravat, and black suit. With his dark hair sleeked back, one might say that he looked the vision of Don Juan, had they seen his last-performed opera.

Dressed in a light pink satin gown that starkly contrasted the iciness of her blue eyes, Blanche's gaze moved back to Mr. Levour, though she wished that they could linger on Mr. Destler, for he had a mysterious attraction about him-from what she could see that was not hidden by the mask, the strong jawline and full lips, he seemed very handsome. But she knew from experience that the successful way to gain a man's attention was to feign ignorance.

"Yes, well it can't hurt to keep a bit of mystery alive in a place such as this. Which excerpt will you be singing for us, today?"

Blanche smiled and Erik watched her silently. She was most certainly one of the most beautiful women that he had seen-soft pink lips, tight curls framing her face, and slight dimples when she smiled. He knew it foolish, but he could not help but to stare at her.

"The final act of Desole," she responded.

Erik was slightly-and pleasantly-surprised by her choice of material. Certainly she was no simple-minded girl to have such fine taste in operas, and this left him hopeful.

As soon as she had sung the first few words, Mr. Levour's eyes widened and he knew that they had finally chanced upon a bit of good fortune. He turned to his partner as the song continued beautifully to see that Mr. Destler's emotions remained hidden-he was ever so good at keeping a calm and unmoved facade.

"I think she might be the one!" Mr. Levour whispered enthusiastically to him.

Erik said nothing and his eyes never left Ms. Thornfield. Once she had finished and awaited their responses, he touched his chin in thought.

She most certainly was very promising; her voice was both soothing and angelic, but due to the fact that Erik was a musical genius, he had caught the hints of misused notes that were spotted here and there.

"She will need a teacher," he stated.

Mr. Levour's mouth hung agape. "The first thing you say upon hearing such an exquisite voice after so long of searching is that she needs a teacher? My god, Mr. Destler, you surprise me! I know that this is your area of expertise, but surely we are not going to let her go?"

"My voice was not to your liking, Mr. Destler?" Blanche asked, raising a delicate eyebrow at him.

Something about her was bewitching, and he could imagine that many a young men would fawn and cater to her desires in order to gain even a few seconds of her attention. The thought of displeasing her was probably their biggest fears, for who could ever say 'no' to such beauty?

"You are both mistaken, for even the most accomplished of leads must still practice and learn," Erik replied.

He was reminded of his years teaching Christine, tuning the fine instrument that was her voice. How he had enjoyed watching her fall under his musical spell, the wideness of her eyes and shortness of breath whenever he should sing for her.

No, he would not make that mistake again. Someone else would need to teach Ms. Thornfield.

"Does your father approve of your pursuits?" Erik asked, hoping that there would be another way to teach her, even if someone inferior to his knowledge of music must do it.

Blanche chuckled, "Oh, Papa does not have it in him to deny me. I am his only daughter, you know."

Erik nodded. "We have already spent a great deal of time securing the cast and the male lead, as well as his teacher. You must forgive me for saying that we might not be able to secure a private tutor for you before the year's end in order to reopen in three months. If you do not mind studying by the same man as Signore Giovanni until we can obtain a female-"

"Mr. Destler, being in the presence of a man has never intimidated me," she said with a devilish smile.

"By god, Mr. Destler, we did it!"

Mr. Levour took a sip of brandy while Erik swirled around the amber liquid in his glass and could not help but smile.

The two had advertised the theatre's opening night for three months, and there only remained two days until it happened. They had even arranged for a ball to be held at the theatre in celebration. It would be the first time in which Erik would appear to the public-with mask, of course-and the thought left him a bit unsettled. Thus far, no one had questioned his choice of attire, in fact; nearly every person had enjoyed the idea of an anonymous composer. It truly fed their wild imaginations as to why he chose such an artistic way to express himself.

Erik set his glass down on the large desk before him and looked around at the shelves of books that he had grown so accustomed to seeing. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of how, one year ago, they had warned him of setting foot in Mr. Levour's estate. How thankful he was that he had given his business partner a chance, for now he found himself approaching the dawn of a new life.

"I'm afraid that I must end this evening early," he stated.

"My friend, the small hand has barely reached the hour of six!" Mr. Levour motioned toward the clock on the wall. "Surely you can stay for a game of cards?"

Erik stood up and straightened his ivory cravat. "As tempting a suggestion it may be, there are a few things that I must attend to before the big night."

Mr. Levour was a bit disappointed but agreed that they would be busy in preparation. Erik saw himself out.

Once the large door had closed behind him, he was greeted by the fresh summer air. The sun had begun its descent, but there was still enough light about to not require a lantern. Erik took the time to enjoy the fine weather as he prepared to make the journey down the long and winding path from the house.

He had often ordered for his carriage to await him further away so that he could spend a little more time in nature and exercise his legs. Besides, this was the first year of his life in which he did not have to hide in darkness, and he found that he quite loved the daylight.

Not ten steps had been taken when he caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye. A dark green cloaked figure was sneaking about near the side of the house, slowly inching closer to a window.

Perhaps it was a thief hoping to relieve the Levour estate of some of its possessions. Or perhaps someone has discovered my identity and has come to finish me off, he thought bitterly. The suggestion struck him as odd, for he was certain that if someone had known about him, there would be an angry mob coming for his demise, instead.

With brows furrowed, Erik made certain not to make a sound when approaching the figure so as not to scare it away. He would be caught dead before allowing anyone to meddle in his affairs.

Erik closed the gap betweent the two of them slowly, as a predator stalking its prey. When he was only inches away, he grabbed the person from behind and smothered the mouth with his gloved hand, eliciting a faint and high-pitched gasp.

"Did you really think that you could escape my notice?" he seethed quietly. He spun the person around to see a young man gazing up at him in fear. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he shook him.

After he had received no answer, his temper began to flare. He may have been the Opera Ghost no longer, but that would not hinder him from acting the same. "Answer me or you shall suffer the consequences!"

He shook the cowering body in his grasp so violently that the man's head whipped toward him and he noticed the peculiar shade of green his eyes were. They seemed so familiar.

"I-I am visiting someone," he insisted. "I mean no harm, please, don't tell anyone!"

Noting the lightness in his voice, Erik guessed him to be younger than he appeared to be, and it was then that the realization of another possibility hit him. Perhaps he was one of Levour's daughter's secret beau? If so, then it was not a detail that Erik was particularly interested in, however; he thought of ways in which he could use this information to his advantage. Was there something to be gained by this knowledge?

He had finally drawn a pleasing conclusion of what he would do, when he noticed something unsettling about this boy's features. A few miniscule strands of red hair peered through, unruly, the mass of dark brown atop his head. Those green eyes...it couldn't be!

Without warning, Erik grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled off the wig to reveal smoothed back auburn tresses and a shocked expression. Every wave of her long hair had been meticulously smothered down until the ends had been crushed and pinned painfully to her head.

"How did you...?" no longer did Cora Levour speak in a masculine voice, instead her feminine tones reassured him of his accusations.

Erik studied the realness of her facade; the thick, bushy eyebrows of a different color than her naturally-thin and arched red ones, the facial hair placed carefully so as not to arouse suspicion as they gave the masculine appearance of being well-groomed with a few stragglers for naturalness, the fullness of her cheeks, fat and plump, to distinguish them from her typically-slender features. Even the bulbous nose was so different than her petite and slim one.

Where could she have learned such talent? How he had always thought of himself as a professional of disguise and concealment, but this-this was truly outstanding!

"Tell me how you have done this," he demanded, his anger transformed into an insatiable curiosity as his eyes continued to rove about her faux features.

Cora ignored his prying questions and his grasp on her had softened, though he continued to keep her in place.

"I am not accountable to you for the way that I live my life. Now, if you would kindly release me then I shall be on my way!"

Erik pulled her closer until he could see that she was uncomfortable. "Such fire in your spirit! To match the natural color of your locks," he brushed away a loose strand from her cheek and watched her cringe from the contact. "How I shall tame that spirit of yours until I have what I want..."

He smiled a devilish grin when he saw the flicker of fear across her hardened features, even if for just a moment before she had resumed her brevity. How pleased he was to know that he could use intimidation for her to obey his requests. It awakened something within him that he had not felt since his days haunting Paris.

"You will get nothing from me!"

"Is that so?" he challenged. "Would you prefer to find out what I am capable of?"

"If you feel that you can threaten me into taking my honor, then you are mistaken!" she spat. It seemed that the fear she had was once again replaced by a stubborn resistance and determination.

"That is not what I want from you..."

No, for as much as he wanted to know the love of a woman, it was too terrible an idea for a monster with his face to inflict upon anyone. He would have to live without, though she still might be of some use to him, perhaps even alter his life greatly. He thought of everything that he could do, what freedoms and pleasures he could enjoy, if he had the secret of her techniques of disguise for himself.

"I want you to teach me how you managed to accomplish this," he added.

"If you only wish to use my talent for something unlawful, then I will not assist you," she said. The fire could still be seen in her green eyes.

He released his hold on her but kept a fistful of her cloak in his gloved hand so that she could not escape. She stood in place and straightened her posture, refusing to allow him the pleasure of affecting her.

"What I do with these techniques is not of your concern. But I must ask," he pulled her closer to whisper into her ear, "why would a woman be dressed as a man, and what would your father think of this?"

He received the precise reaction that he was hoping for-her eyes held a mixture of fear and anger in them. Before she could refuse, he withdrew a calling card from his pocket and gingerly tucked it into her costume. He gave a swift pat and warned, "If you wish to remain undiscovered, then I suggest that you arrive at this address tomorrow at half past two in the afternoon in order to discuss this talent of yours."

He released his grip on her, but not before adding, "If I were you, I would not chance crossing me."


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

Cora's heart raced to the rhythm of an invisible drum; she could hear it pounding in her ears. As the vast and looming estate came into view, she wondered, if perhaps, the end of her life was drawing near.

Her carriage came to a halt in front of two towering oak doors. She hesitated to step out, contemplating whether or not her odds of survival would be better to turn around and return home. What proper and sane lady would render herself vulnerable in such a way-to call upon a strange man of whom she knew nothing about, save for the fact that he wore a mask to obscure his identifying features, with an identity wholly unkown, and had used threats to carry out his dark intentions?

She remembered everything that she had worked so hard to accomplish and how it would be in vain if she did not obey Mr. Destler's orders. She could not allow her father to discover her secret, even if she must suffer the consequences of what she was about to do.

The elderly Butler led her through the door and down a dark hallway, where she noticed that the decor was darker than that of a typical estate; massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the crimson brocade walls, dark scarlet candles were on nearly every surface, and even the paintings were of bleak and stormy landscapes. She nearly expected to see a gargoyle perched somewhere.

She was abandoned in a large study that contained so many books that it could be considered a library. Save for the massive black marble fireplace, the rest of the walls were covered with shelves of various books-she caught glimpses of topics from foreign languages, to music, to history.

It wasn't until after the door had closed and she was truly alone that she felt the panic spread through her. What if Mr. Destler had been dishonest and he really was going to take something indecent from her?

No, for surely he could not expect her to keep quiet, not to mention that it would put his position with her father at risk. Perhaps it was their partnership that reassured her that this was not the case.

Nevertheless, she did not enjoy the idea of being controlled by a strange man, no matter what it was that he wanted from her. She clutched the cloth sack in her hands tightly, praying that the encounter would end quickly.

Not even one minute had passed before Erik had joined her. Once he had closed the door, he turned to look at her and she noticed that he wore a white porcelain half-mask in place of the large velvet black one that she had seen the previous day.

She wondered why such a handsome and wealthy man had not yet married, and why he had insisted on carrying on with his eccentric and theatrical appearance.

Perhaps his 'charms' had not worked well in courtship, for what lady would ever consider a man who did not hesitate to use threats and intimidation in a most inappropriate way? she thought coldly to herself.

Her heart nearly lept to her throat when she saw how menacing he looked, especially with a small smirk on his face, as he approached her. She lifted her head slightly and refused to show her fear.

"Ms. Levour," Erik walked over to a carafe of liquor and poured himself a glass, "It pleases me to see that you have followed my advice. Care for a glass?"

She ignored his offer.

"Advice? You may have leverage against me, but do not pretend to be a gentleman!"

He chuckled to himself. If only she knew of who he once was, then perhaps she would not speak to him so brazenly. She might even break that courageous and stubborn facade of hers and run away, screaming.

"Very straightforth; a good quality to have," he remarked. He ran his fingers through his dark hair with a sigh, preparing himself to execute the ludicrous idea that he had spent the entire sleepless night pondering.

He imagined all of the ways in which he could experience a new-found freedom-that of disguising his face in such a way that no one would ever suspect a deformity. He could walk straight through the front door and outside without hesitation, without thought of whether or not his mask was askewed or covered every inch of the abhorrent skin. He could take a stroll in town and be met with faces that did not contort in terror at the sight of him. How often people took for granted such luxuries, and he was to be sure that he would enjoy every minute of even mundane tasks!

He certainly wished to know the techniques for himself, so that he could apply his own disguise and never have to burden anyone with the sight again, but he knew that this could not be the case. Cora had managed to cover her own flawless features, but how could he be certain that she had the ability to cover his marred face? She would need to assess the damage in order to show him how to do it, for simply painting the facade would not be successful when the skin was not smooth.

He was plagued by the fear of what was to come. How could he ever allow another soul, let alone a woman, to see his face again? He certainly did not wish for a repeat from four years ago! He could not bear to be humiliated again, and he knew nothing of this woman to know exactly the level of repulsion that she would experience.

Was her secret of consequence enough to prevent her from revealing him to others? Perhaps he had misjudged her character, and the reason for her prancing about in a man's disguise was trivial enough that she would not keep her disgust to herself and would jeopardize his entire life? He would be forced to flee from the life that he was working so hard to accomplish, and he did not enjoy the threat of it.

He shook the negative thoughts from his head. If her secret was not important to her, then surely she would not have traveled to his estate and risked what she had thus far. It was highly improper for an unmarried woman to be alone with him, let alone that she risked being caught by her father at his estate.

Still, he could not help but to feel the anxiety of what he was about to do.

He drank all of the liquid from his glass to prepare himself before he continued, "I have not been blessed in life to be a gentleman."

"Truly?" Cora responded with sarcasm. "It must have escaped my observation, what with the way in which you shook me about and threatened me!"

"It was necessary," he folded his hands tightly in his lap, hoping that his anger would not flare further.

He had never been spoken to in such a way, and he almost wished that he was still the Phantom of the Opera to inspire fear in her. Perhaps he would have to resort to his old ways, after all.

"I was never aware that a lack of etiquette and proper manners towards a woman is necessary?" she laughed in disbelief.

If only she had known what he had done to the woman he loved years ago; how he had tricked her into believing that he was her Angel of Music, how he had attempted to seduce her into becoming his, and had ultimately abducted her with threats of ending her lover's life. Erik wanted to scoff but also felt a brief pang of guilt.

"It is when you have no other choice!" he shouted. Her rebellious and brazen conduct angered him, and he did not expect for the red-haired woman to be so grating on his nerves.

Her light green eyes blazed in return at him, and he noticed how her pale lips formed in a line. "I believe that one always has a choice in how they treat others."

His fists tightened and his jaw clenched from her words. How dare she criticize him for his behavior-he, who has endured the ridicule and mockery of everyone his entire life; he who was reduced to a repulsive animal by the woman he loved in front of an audience!

How people would pay a small coin as entry to see the Devil's Child, to point and laugh, before going about their day as if he had no inkling of emotion or feeling as a human being! How his own mother had abandoned him, as if he was no better than refuse burdening the underside of a shoe, to a man who would hurt and beat him! How he had to watch the woman he loved look on at him in fear and leave him for the normalcy of another man!

"If you knew of the way in which I have been treated all of my life-what cruelty I have suffered-" he struggled for a moment to maintain his composure, "-it is of no consequence; that is not why you are here. I want for you to teach me how you have accomplished it!"

Cora furrowed her brows at him and remained silent.

"I want you to transform my face."

She crossed her arms defensively. "Whyever would you wish to do such a thing? Do you wish to play games with people? As if hiding your identity from the public isn't enough of a thrill for you, you now wish to take on a different identity?"

"I do not wish to play games, Mademoiselle!" he hissed. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs and hands folded in front of him, with a dark look in his hazel eyes. "You would be wise to comply!"

"I do wish you would stop threatening me! Had it not been for you discovering me yesterday, I would never allow you to speak to me this way!"

"You have no say in the matter! Let us not forget that I did discover you yesterday, and you will obey me if you wish for it to be kept a secret!"

Cora turned her head towards the fireplace with an angry but weakening determination. "I will not take part in being deceiptful."

"Are you not the epitome of deceipt to dress as a man?!" he spat with vehemence.

Her eyes cast down to study the floral patterns of the large Turkish rug beneath her. She despised the fact that she was, yet again, at the mercy of another man's will. It was a circumstance that she had worked so earnestly to avoid the past year.

"I have my reasons," she replied through gritted teeth, "that are none of your concern."

"As do I!" Erik shouted. His patience was wearing thin and his stomach turned at the idea of revealing his face to her, setting his nerves ablaze. Though he both knew and cared nothing for Cora, exposing himself to her was demeaning all the same.

This was a mistake to bring her here! he chastised himself mentally. He began to pace the room, like a mad animal in its cage, deciding what he should do. Cora watched him cautiously, uncertain of his motives.

He stopped suddenly and turned to her, the intense stare made Cora uncomfortable.

"You will do this!" he determined. Cora was unsure as to if he had spoken to her or was reassuring himself of his intentions instead.

Erik was so quick to tower over her that she startled when she saw his menacing black figure standing before her.

"You will tell no one of this, and if you scream then you shall suffer a fate worse than what you are now doomed to!" he warned.

"What?" Cora asked, shocked. She felt gooseflesh on her arms and stood abruptly, staring him in the face. "I will not stay to become your plaything!"

Her stoic facade began to melt away in front of him, and he could see the fear in her green eyes. This fear, this cowering woman before him, reminded him of the very same expression that he had once seen in the eyes of the woman he loved, and it angered him further.

"You will do as I say!"

"I will not!" the look of determination had returned to her features and she headed towards the door. "I will not be raped or tortured, or whatever it is that you have intended for me! You can tell my father whatever you like!"

In a moment of desparation, Erik pinned her to the door before she could open it, his eyes filled with rage. "Should I tell him of this, as well?"

His hand ripped away the mask and threw it to the floor, causing Cora to jump when it shattered. Her eyes never left his face, and he could see them widen with horror. Without thought, his hand flew to her mouth to stifle whatever scream he expected would come, for he could not bear to hear it.

"Remember my promise if you scream!" he hissed.

Cora's eyes began to water and she prayed that the tears would not fall. Her gaze roved over the sight before her-the mangled, twisted flesh in place of smooth skin, the lack of hair upon his temple, the sagging of his maddened eye, and she felt a lump rise to her throat.

Erik felt the disgust of her reaction overtake him and the urge to vomit had never been stronger in him.

"Do you see what I have been reduced to? I am already a monster disguised as a human!"

He pulled himself away from her angrily and walked over to the fireplace, daring his composure to withstand his overwhelming emotions. He willed himself not to cry, for there was nothing more that could humiliate him in front of her. Instead, he focused on the crackling flames in the fireplace, wishing that they could consume him in that instant.

Cora remained, unmoved, with her back against the door. She focused on the coldness of it that she could feel through her dress, hoping that such a simple, mundane thought would distract her from the many emotions that conflicted within her.

Shock from the secret in which Mr. Destler had kept was quickly replaced with disgust of her own behavior. How could she have terribly misjudged him? She felt the stabbing knife of shame wash over her at the thought of how painful it must have been for him to reveal himself to her, and how stubborn and spiteful she had been.

What pain he must have had to endure in his life! And here she had been severe and patronizing with him! She had believed him to wish harm upon her for his own amusement by his behavior-never had she expected that he bore such an affliction!

A tear escaped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away, before he would turn around and notice. She was certain that he had already mistaken her reaction as caused by his face, when it was her own previous accusations that she was horrified by.

She wished that she could disappear into the floor with how small she felt. To watch him put back together what little composure he could muster in front of her, to watch the pained expression on his face that had remained from the anger, made her despise herself in that moment. She hated the fact that she had made another human being feel that way.

She walked back to the divan and set the cloth sack down on the table. She began to pull out its contents-various creams, paints, and tools that she used for her own disguise, and whatever she had managed to collect that she thought would be useful that morning. Though she had began her journey to his estate with a determination not to assist him, she had prepared for it in case of threats, nonetheless; and she was glad of it, now.

"Alright, I will help you," she spoke softly.


	4. Chapter 4

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Ch. 4

Erik turned to her, shocked. Not only was she going to obey him, but a gentleness had graced her voice that he most certainly did not anticipate. Was he in a dream? Had she acquiesced to his wishes-was she to give him the hope of experiencing even one day of a normal life by the work of her hands?

"Please, sit," she gestured to the emptiness beside her. He noticed that she had an emotionless countenance on her face and a numbness to her that he could only assume was her way of coping with the terror that he had inflicted upon her. He was ashamed of himself for showing her such a sight, but it was too late.

She certainly was good at pretending that it had not affected her-a master of the true art of disguise. Perhaps if he could just endure the situation a little longer, just enough to accomplish his purpose, the benefits would far outweigh the consequences.

He obliged and sat beside her. He watched her decide on which item she would use first, hoping to catch a glimpse of her thoughts written on her features. But she concealed them well. What true deceipt she could accomplish, for not even Christine could hide her fear in this way!

Cora opened a small jar of salve that she sometimes used beneath the disguise to prevent irritation of the skin, especially if she knew that she would have to wear the many layers of substances for a long duration. She scooped out a small amount and touched it to his face.

Erik flinched at the contact and she pulled away quickly, her brows furrowed.

This will be the moment in which she cannot hide her disgust!

"Forgive me, does it hurt?" she asked.

As simple as those words sounded, they made Erik crumble inside. He had never heard those words spoken to him, and he wished so badly to believe that she meant them. But he knew better-she was only acting out of self-preservation; she was afraid of his anger. She wanted to be quick to finish her business with him and be done.

"If you can endure it a bit longer, this will greatly reduce the inflammation," she explained.

He nodded silently and closed his eyes, both enjoying the attention to his skin and wishing he could be anywhere else but in the presence of yet another woman who feared and was disgusted by him.

Erik was impatient; it seemed as if an eternity had passed before Cora had concentrated on another area of his face, her slender fingers painting on various creams and mixtures. How wonderful it felt to have the touch of another human-how he wished that he could give into the sensation and savor the gentleness that was exercised by her fingertips!

But he knew better-he was not ignorant of the fact that she did not touch him out of love or tender affections, rather; she was forced to do so because he had threatened her. Was that not always how he had ever experienced a sliver of normalcy or a small glimmer of hope-through extortion and bribery?

Pathetic man that he was! Was he not the most repulsive monstrosity that her light-green eyes had ever seen and her hands ever touched? He was certain that he would be the substance to her nightmares that night.

And yet, it had surprised him that after her initial shock and fright, after spending a great length of time on his disguise, no longer did the horror grace her features; instead replaced by a look of great concentration.

He watched the color of her green eyes, how light freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and apples of her cheeks, and how her unruly auburn hair protested the tight manipulation of a twist by releasing a few curly strands in her face. She was not the most beautiful woman that he had seen, but his opinion of her appearance had improved upon closer inspection.

Cora was nearly finished, and it could not have been soon enough, for the intensity of Mr. Destler's hazel-colored eyes on her had made her uneasy. She was so anxious that she could not let down her guard, afraid that if she failed him there would be severe consequences to suffer, let alone the disappointment that she would cause him. She imagined that this was the most hope that he had felt in a long while.

She had used various techniques that she had read about from a theatre-pulling of the eyes in an upward fashion so as not to show how it sagged and securing it with a special adhesive, covering the majority of his cheek with a moldable substance that she had smoothed to mask the marred skin beneath it. She had painted on fleshtone colors in order to blend the coverings together with the normal edges of his skin and to create shadows and dimensions of the skin that would naturally occur had it been unafflicted.

She even took the liberty of applying a patch of false hair and drawing in small strands over the patch of his thinning hair before she camouflaged it with the dark wig that she had seen him wear.

Once she had finished filling in the nearly missing eyebrow, she released a long exhale. How time-consuming and tedious the task was-she had realized that, if she herself would be attending the ball that night, then she would need to return home quickly in order to prepare her own appearance. But she could not help but to examine her efforts at disguising him as she drew back from his face.

Creating a distance between the two of them had already helped to ease her anxiety. How different he had looked as well! One could not determine, even under scrutinization, that the right side of his face was deformed at all; instead, it mirrored his flawless skin of the untouched side.

How truly handsome he was, even despite his threats and behavior, so much that Cora knew that he would catch the eye of every woman who saw him. Even though she knew how awful his conduct could be, she hated to admit that her poor opinion of him had somewhat improved, for she could not find it in herself to hate him entirely after she had seen his affliction. After all, how else would a man behave who had been forced to hide himself and live in the shadows and deceipt with the fear of being seen and rejected?

She imagined that she would be bitter and lacking in manners as well, had she lived his life.

Her fear had subsided, for she knew that she could not have done better. If he was displeased by it then she would assure him that there was nothing more that could be done.

Erik inhaled sharply and prepared himself for the worst when she had notified him that her work was complete. He searched her face for any sign of what he might expect, but she did well to hide her emotions.

"Wait here," he instructed as she began to pack her belongings.

His heart raced as he left the room and sought out the only mirror in the house that he owned, located in the humble water closet in the servants' quarters. He quickly closed the door behind him and prepared for the worst.

His pulse nearly stopped when he looked. A different man stared back at him-one of whom he was not acquainted with. Could this be? Could this truly be him? Had he finally awakened from a terrible nightmare and his face had been flawless all along? His hand instinctively rose to feel its smooth texture for a brief moment.

He knew that it was probably best not to tamper with it too much, and so he just stared. He turned his head from left to right, carefully examining how natural it appeared. When he could see no error, he could contain himself no longer.

Tears sprung from his eyes and he buried his face in his hands. How he had longed for this, how he never thought that he would experience this! He was both elated and fearful of the possibilities that were now open to him.

How much pain and anguish would have been spared him, had he learned of this earlier in his life! He would have had no need to hide himself as a Ghost in the Parisian Opera House, for he could have shown his face as an architect and composer. He would never have had to hold Christine against her will, for perhaps she would have loved him if she had seen him this way.

Perhaps she would have loved him!

The thought made him cold and resentful, and he straightened himself up and wiped away the tears. He faced the reality that his former life was behind him, and he vowed to focus on the new life ahead.

He cursed himself when he noticed that his tears had smeared a certain spot enough to look unnatural. He hoped that Cora had obeyed him and would still be found in the library, though he expected that she would have taken advantage of the opportunity to escape.

He was pleasantly surprised when he found her sitting quietly on the divan.

Cora noticed how his eyes now had puffed a little and she knew that he had cried. All of the ill feelings that she had held for his previous behavior had been excused and replaced with compassion and a feeling of accomplishment for helping him.

"It seems in your eagerness you have accidentally touched it," she said, pretending that she was unaware that he had shed tears. "I would avoid touching it, if at all possible, next time. The color may transfer to your fingers."

Erik nodded and watched her pull out a familiar jar and proceed to fix the spot.

"There! Now, if you will excuse me, I have but three hours until I must arrive at the ball, and I have yet to prepare myself," she stood, clutching the bag.

"You did well," Erik stated as he pulled out something from the pocket of his black waistcoat.

Cora pretended not to notice the money that he offered to her as she cleaned up the supplies and prepared to leave.

"I do not want your money," she said as she finished tying the cloth sack.

Erik was slightly taken aback by her response, for he had imagined that she would take it without hesitation. Or perhaps she was still cross with him because of his threats? Maybe she had been excellent at concealing her disgust and wished to get far away from him, as quickly as possible, he thought.

"You cannot expect not to be compensated for your work," he said.

"I state again; I do not want your money."

"Ms. Levour," Erik walked over to the fireplace and traced the marble edge with a gloved finger. "I do hope you have enough whit about you to realize that this will not be a seldom occasion. I shall require your services often, and you should be compensated for your time."

Cora grew annoyed in the way in which his tone was commanding, yet again. She understood his lack of social skills, but could he not treat her as an equal? There was nothing that could ignite her temper hastier than a man looking down upon her and reminding her that she was under his control.

"I am aware that your strictest confidence of my secret means that I must oblige you," she stated. It was a fact that she was most disappointed in, for now she knew that he would continue his intimidating behavior, and to think of being forced to deal with his unpleasantness many hours each week when she had other things to attend to was most exhausting.

"Then you must take it," he stretched his hand out with the money in it.

"I will not. Good day, Mr. Destler!" she half-curtsied and saw her way out.

Cora dismissed herself before another word could be spoken and Erik did not pursue her. Now he had to finish preparing himself to attend the ball. And this would be the first in which he would not need to hide behind a mask. A glorious prospect, indeed!


	5. Chapter 5

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Ch. 5

His palms sweated and his heart raced wildly when the carriage had arrived at its destination. He smoothed the lapel of his midnight-black waistcoat and watched as the illumination of the vast theatre streamed through the window.

Panic began to set in as he wondered whether or not he was making a grave mistake, and he had to reassure himself by gazing at his reflection in the glass window to make certain that his mangled flesh could not be seen.

He was grateful to have the poor lighting and the darkness as he stepped out of his carriage and made his way to the entrance. At least it was something familiar to him.

He could hear the laughter, discussions, and music drift through the air and grow louder with each step he took, and he wondered if all of the merriment would end once he had stepped inside and made his presence known. Would they notice that he wore a disguise? Had he fooled himself into believing that he looked the part of a gentleman?

And yet, as he held his breath and stepped into the grand entrance of the theatre, the festivities carried on. The stares of those of whom he passed by as he made his way deeper into the grand room in search of a familiar face did not escape his notice, however. Was it only a matter of time until they realized who-or what-he was?

Erik blamed himself for his impulsive and foolish behavior. Extorting his business partner's daughter and thinking that he could so easily blend into society was madness! He was risking his entire livelihood for a dance, when he could so easily have appeared in-mask and no one would have questioned it. Perhaps they might have adored it, for many enjoyed him as the mysterious composer!

No, for he knew how tiring the evening would be if he was to be surrounded by gossip and people guessing his identity. He would not provide an opportunity for someone to divulge him of his mask due to curiosity, even if what he was now doing was absurd.

It only took a few seconds of uneasiness for him to be convinced that he was, indeed, a fool. It did not help that, as he searched for Mr. Levour as the only acquaintance he knew, he heard a few young ladies talking amongst themselves and giggling at him.

I should have expected no less than to be mocked! Why on earth am I here? He mentally berated himself.

"Do you not wish that he would ask you for a dance?"

"He is so handsome! Such striking-colored eyes!"

Erik was certain that they could not possibly be speaking about himself, even if they were staring at him. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity. He, desired as a dance partner? Handsome? They must have been speaking of someone else!

Seeing all of the unfamiliar faces, Erik now mourned the fact that he knew no one. Of what use was it to have the luxury of appearing in public if he could not be engaged in conversation?

And then, he saw Mr. Levour. The look of amusement began to disappear on the red-haired man's face as he studied Erik with concentration. Of all people, would he be the one to discover Erik's ruse? And to think that he had risked his partnership, his position as sole composer for Rochester Theatre, and possibly even his life, all for the pleasures of one night!

Mr. Levour approached him, and Erik could not ignore the twisted knot of dread that had formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Erik, is that you?"

Erik prepared himself for the worst; he glanced about the room to determine exactly how many people would witness his revealment and where the nearest escape would be. He would have to overthrow a few large women and tall men in order to reach a nearby opened window, but it could be managed.

"Why, out of all of the gentlemen with whom I am acquainted with, I never expected you to attend a ball! And without your mask, at that!" Mr. Levour extended his hand for Erik to shake, which he did so reluctantly.

"So you admit, then, that you have been withholding from the ladies?" Mr. Levour asked with a wink. "But oh, how your identity has added such mystery and intrigue surrounding the theatre! People have made it a game of sorts to guess the persona of the illusionary 'Masked Composer'. But here you are, just as ordinary as the rest of us-though I suspect that the women will find you a prime dance partner and enviable suitor," he laughed whole-heartedly.

Erik was relieved-more than relieved, even; he was delighted that his idea had worked. No longer would he have to hide in the shadows! He felt liberated. No longer would he be shackled to the destiny of his mask! How long he had waited-

"Ah, my darling daughters are here to join us," Mr. Levour exclaimed cheerfully as the two women with similar features approached them.

Gisette and Cora were dressed equally as extravagant; the younger sister in gold brocade and the plainer Cora in a green that matched her eyes and brought out the color of her fiery mane.

While the bubbly and charming Gisette was most certainly more pleasing to look at, as most men would concur, Erik's gaze did not leave the face of the plainer sister and she found every reason to look away. He knew by her silence that she would not reveal him, and this gave him even greater satisfaction.

Cora was irritated that she was forced to acknowledge Mr. Destler's presence.

Is it not enough to bear his ill temper whenever he wishes, and now I must treat him as if he were a gentleman? she thought bitterly.

Erik thought her cold demeanor to be from her disgust in what she had seen hours earlier, and he was displeased that her reaction was no different than that of anyone else who had seen him, albeit more composed. He wondered how she had learned to hide such strong feelings of repulsion, for he knew that they were there.

At least she will not run away and scream, he thought. She is the very definition of deception; wearing a false facade to hide her horror of me!

Gisette batted her long eyelashes and pulled out a small embroidered handfan to smile behind as she pretended to relieve herself from the suffocating heat in the room. Erik noticed how vain she appeared to be.

"You really must have a dance with my daughters, if you're not already committed to too many cards this evening," Mr. Levour urged.

"Oh, yes," Gisette agreed, "I would fancy a dance, if Mr. Destler were to ask."

Erik was unaccustomed to the etiquette and mannerisms of society, and so he found the polite superficiality in behavior a nuisance, though he played his part.

"But of course," he responded before he extended his arm for her. The way in which Cora rolled her eyes did not escape his notice.

Cora watched the pair dismiss themselves and make their way to the other room with a smirk. She knew that her less-experienced, overindulged, and anxious-to-wed sister would be grating on Mr. Destler's nerves.

He deserved it.

Erik had never known a waltz to be endured for so long a time and was grateful when he did not need to renew his offer a second time. Gisette had proven to be the very opposite of her sister in every way, prattling on about the latest fashions that she owned and the many suitors who visited her (presumably mentioning this in thinking it would increase her value in his eyes).

He had excused himself and joined the scattered people viewing the dance on the outskirts of the room, enjoying the lack of conversation. Being out in society was foreign and tiring, indeed!

"Would you not love to dance with him? Do you think that he will ask you, since he has already danced with your sister?"

Erik overheard the pair of women who stood not far from him as he watched the dance and chose to refrain that round, himself. He did not know what to make of the fact that more than one woman had complimented him in a matter of less than an hour.

It is the ruse that they compliment, he thought dryly. They would never say these things if they saw who I really am.

Still, it felt like a breath of fresh air to to think that any woman would enjoy his presence.

"I neither know nor care," Cora responded callously and took a sip of wine from the glass that she held. She was completely unaware that he could hear everything she said, though she hoped that he would catch her words.

"How I wish I could say I am surprised but, hearing it from you, I am not!" her companion giggled. "I never understood why you do not like men."

"It is not that I do not like them," Cora defended herself. "But why should I pay attention to any and every man who shows gentlemanlike behavior in the presence of others? That does not testify to who he is in secret."

Her words stung Erik, but he remained silent. He could only assume that she was speaking of him as a monster hidden behind the facade of a handsome gentleman. She was, instead, speaking about his manners and temper.

"Besides, you know that I do not wish to marry. Dancing is the first step to becoming acquainted with a man to decide if he is worthy of courtship, and so I have no need for it."

"So you would not agree if he was to ask?"

"Most certainly not! And I do wish that you would stop speaking about him," Cora replied, annoyed.

She ceased speaking abruptly when Erik approached the two of them. Her companion, Jane, blushed profusely, while Cora merely gave enough of a curtsy that would not display obvious rudeness but was not exactly cordial, either.

"Mr. Destler?"

"I was wondering, if perhaps, you might honor me with a dance," he suggested with a toothy grin. "I thought that you appeared to be fond of those and lacking a partner."

He knew how aggravated she was and delighted in exercising his authority over her, even if it was only the two of them who were aware of it.

She glared at him and finished the last of her drink before she replied with sarcasm and a forced smile, "There is nothing that would bring me greater pleasure."

"I must confess that I did not expect you to acknowledge my presence in the company of others," she admitted.

"Whyever not, when there is so much to discuss?"

She ignored the way in which he seemed to take pride in taunting her. "What with all of the ladies of society practically salivating over you and offering themselves up on a silver platter, I would have thought you to have better taste than to choose my company."

"Are you not also a 'lady of society'? Oh, yes, but you choose to disguise yourself as a man," he countered with sarcasm. "Is the life of a wealthy woman with many suitors too burdensome for you?"

He could not understand why someone who was born with priviledge and no blemishes would wish to be another person. What he would not give to have been born without deformity!

"You know nothing of my life!" she spat, still quiet enough that no one could overhear them.

The two were seperated when they were forced to dance around a couple beside them, and when they were reunited, she added, "Have you only asked for a dance in order to insult me for your own amusement? I was aware of my obligation to assist you in your preparations, but I had no knowledge of it extending beyond that!"

After Mr. Destler had first revealed himself to her earlier that day, she had felt shame for her rebellion and compassion to assist him, but once she had noticed that he would still treat her as his cornered prey even after she had helped him, she grew tired of being cordial. Her emotions were constantly teetering between sympathy for his behavior and refusal to be treated as inferior.

It was a most tiring war waged within herself.

"At least you recognize that you do have an obligation to me, which I will use whenever I choose to-"

"-insufferable man!" she interrupted angrily. "Do you always threaten others to do as you please? It is no wonder that you have not made friends sooner-"

Erik pulled her closer and growled quietly, "If you value your life then I would advise you not to finish your sentence!"

Cora straightened up with an air of rebellion. "I will abide by your demands for a disguise, because you are clearly incapable of behaving like a gentleman and I value the privacy of my secrets. But if you are searching for entertainment-for a plaything-or someone to laugh at, then I am afraid that you have confused me for my sister!"

The song ended at precisely the opportune time for her to take her leave without another word spoken. And although she frustrated him to no end, he had to admire her for her boldness, for neither Christine nor the people at the Opera Populaire would have spoken to him with such brevity.

What a strange creature she was, indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

Cora followed her father deeper into the Rochester Theatre, both dreading the idea of seeing Mr. Destler again and hopeful that the opera would take her mind off of things. She was pleasantly surprised to find that Mr. Destler was nowhere in sight for the entirety of the time spent conversing with others in the Grand Hall before they were notified that the performance would begin soon.

The Levours were priviledged enough to sit in a special box that afforded them a luxurious view of the stage. It was the second best seat in the house-the box to the right of them was the best, and reserved for Mr. Destler.

Cora watched her father on the stage, the large crimson velvet curtains closed behind him. He thanked everyone for coming, et cetera, and announced that the infamous composer was indeed watching the performance, thanking him for the material provided that night. She glanced at the box to see that Mr. Destler was still not there, wondering if he had left after the dance after all.

A few minutes later, her father had joined his two daughters and the curtains opened to begin. Cora smiled with excitement when she saw the lead, Ms. Blanche Thornfield, dressed extravagantly in diamonds and silk. It would be the first time in which she had heard the beautiful woman sing.

Cora's mood was abruptly dampened when she saw a dark shadow out of the corner of her eye. She watched, with dismay, as Mr. Destler took an empty seat beside her father in their private box, wondering why he was not sitting in his own.

Mr. Levour, being much shorter than the dark composer, afforded Erik a view of Cora, even from the opposite side of him. He looked at her with a smirk and Cora noticed that he had managed to change his attire and had replaced his large black velvet mask, probably to maintain his identity as the anonymous composer for the rest of the night.

She considered exchanging seats with her younger sister in order to sit further away from Mr. Destler and hide herself from his taunting smile, but she knew that she could not cause a disturbance during the performance. She would have to endure his stare.

Ms. Thornfield was neither lacking in beauty nor talent. Her confident and lovely voice melted with the lead male's harmoniously. The duo sang of growing love, pain, and loss. Ultimately, their story ended in death, as many operas do.

Cora found herself wiping tears from her eyes during the final scene. The melody contained overwhelming emotion, and she clapped enthusiastically when it had ended.

Erik watched with pride and felt relief when the entire audience stood, whistled, and shouted compliments at the performance. He could not help but to smile when he saw that everyone appreciated his talent-it was everything that he had dreamed of.

"Erik, you have done it!" Mr. Levour shouted above the applause.

Cora overheard the use of his first name and was surprised to learn of it. He was the only 'Erik' that she knew. What a shame that the name belonged to such an ill-tempered man, she thought. There was simply something about him that brought out the worst of her own temper, too.

And yet, his music contained such a passion that she had never heard before. He truly did have musical talent, and she was perplexed as to why he did not display, in his own life, the love and kindness that he wrote about. He was quite the opposite, really!

He was not only the most infuriating man of whom she had met, but also a deep enigma.

Mr. Levour left the box and returned to the stage to bow with the cast and conclude the evening. Erik turned to Cora, who was dreading the conversation that was to come.

"Ms. Levour, how did you enjoy tonight's performance?" he asked.

"Very much," Cora refused to make eye contact with him, instead pretending to scan the crowd of guests that had begun to leave for a familiar face. She was hoping that this would discourage him from carrying on the conversation.

"And was this your first opera?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever heard such music? I seem to recall that you look down upon suitors and the very idea of marriage. Perhaps you are not experienced in the ways of love," he smiled darkly, knowing that he was affecting her.

Cora bit her lip to prevent herself from imploding and took a deep breath before she continued, "It is a wonder that such passion and love can be spoken through music, when it is rarely experienced by anyone and displayed even less. In a world lacking in manners and kindness, I am surprised that it exists at all."

Erik caught her insult towards him and grew agitated.

"Yes, well, I should think that those who are not afraid to find such love can experience it. Others, who are less inclined to marry and end as old spinsters, would never know it," he retorted.

Cora could not help but to cast a deathly glare in his direction. Before she could make a reply, her sister-who had been unaware of their exchange of words-inserted herself into the conversation.

"Mr. Destler, your talent is truly magnificent! Why, I have never heard such beautiful notes played!"

"Thank you, Gisette," he replied warmly. He stood and dismissed himself with a bow.

Gisette leaned in towards Cora as they awaited their father's return. "Is he not the very essence of a well-bred gentleman? So handsome and romantic!"

Cora rolled her eyes. His music may be romantic, and he may be handsome, but he will never be a gentleman in my eyes!

—-

On the return home, Erik smiled to himself. Only once had he attended a ball, only to hide behind his mask and watch the woman whom he loved become engaged to another man. But tonight-tonight he had been introduced to many beautiful women who wanted to dance with him, wanted to speak with him, and even to know his name! He was no longer the Phantom of the Opera-he was a man, and Erik Destler was his name!

Not to mention that the last time in which his opera had been played, it had led to the most humiliating moment of his life and a broken heart. But tonight he had witnessed the pleasant astonishment and appreciation for his hard work.

His life had finally been given a moment of happiness, with opportunities for more, and he could not help but to think of how relieved he was that he had found Cora at the precise moment of her weakness that he had. Although terrible it may be to think such thoughts, he would still have been confined alone in the darkness of his days had it not been for discovering her secret.

No longer would he live in darkness.

—

Nearly one week had passed by before Cora had found herself staring at a letter that had been delivered to her on that Thursday morning.

After a day or two without hearing from Mr. Destler, she had begun to harbor the hope that he would not be needing her services often, and after a week she had even wondered if he had released her from her obligation, though she knew better.

And while the elegant writing of praise would appear as cordial, she knew otherwise; how his words threatened her and even the money included seemed to mock her. She had the feeling that her fate would forever be shackled to his, and the thought brought her great displeasure. After all, was it not bad enough that her parents wished for her life to be governed by a man, to be supressed as a woman, and here she was under the control of someone and not even married?

She broke open the scarlet wax seal with the least bit of enthusiasm and sighed in dejection once she had read its contents.

She was to go to him the following day-not much of an advance notice, she complained to herself. She crumpled up the letter, tossed it in her waste-basket, and propped her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow digging unpleasantly into the hard surface of her writing table.

How was she ever to escape him?


	7. Chapter 7

**I've been busy with art shows, but I haven't forgotten about this story. I still have a bit more written and working on it again. If any of you would like to see what I've been working on aside from writing, you can follow me on instagram wanderlust_by_brittany to see my artwork. :)**

Ch. 7

"Ah, Mademoiselle Levour," Mr. Destler said with a smile. "How nice of you to join me."

"Charming, as always, I see," she muttered under her breath before taking her place at the divan.

Erik particularly enjoyed having such authority over her, and she could see this written on his countenance. His typical white mask glared against his smiling features, reminding her of who he really was-far the opposite of a well-behaved gentleman, but rather a man who takes advantage of others in the most discourteous of ways.

"I must say, your talent is great, indeed! No one suspected anything!" he said with a look of amusement.

Cora did not answer him, instead; she set up her supplies the same way that she had done before-cold, meticulous, and professional.

Erik could see her perterbance as he sat beside her.

"Suddenly you have no words to say? That is surprising, coming from a woman who so easily bestows her negative opinion where it is most unwelcome," he observed.

She turned to him with a jar and small powder brush made of horse hair in-hand, an annoyed expression in her eyes.

"Would you kindly remove your mask so that I might begin?" she asked.

Erik was somewhat surprised to see how mechanical she had become. He could only assume that such numbness was her mechanism for coping with the trauma that he had, and would again, inflict upon her. The thought angered him, but he obliged.

She did not scream, cry, or startle. She did not even flinch. She simply began her work and focused on her task, which is not at all what he had expected. He would never grow accustomed to someone seeing his face without the look of horror or shock that he knew. It was almost worse that she could lie and hide her disgust so easily. He almost wished that she would react.

"You are quite the manipulator-you hide your disgust and fear so well!" he seethed. "And to think that I once loved a woman...you have proven, yet again, that your gender is only capable of lies and deceipt!"

Cora shot an angry glare at him.

"I am all surprise that you once loved someone. Your music speaks of it, but your conduct does not," she spoke as she worked, "It is a wonder she did not fall for a man who can threaten and harrass without second thought."

Erik shot a gloved hand out and grabbed her wrist, painfully.

"Never speak that way again!" he shouted. "You do not know what you speak of!"

"Mr. Destler," she yanked her hand from his grasp without affording him the pleasure of having affected her, "It is apparent that we can have no civil discussion, so let us not speak at all. Silence will surely suffice, be it long."

"I could not agree more," he replied. He refused to look at her, instead closing his eyes and focusing on getting the task over with.

Once Cora had finished, she was relieved to know that she would be away from Mr. Destler soon enough. Even if she would be forced to endure his company at the family dinner that evening, at least she would have a brief hiatus from him beforehand.

Erik pulled out the familiar wad of money and offered it to her. She ignored him, packed her belongings, and left without a word.

Once the servant had finished styling Cora's hair and left her alone in her room, she let out an exasperated sigh. There were many times that she had stared at the mirror before her and wished that she had been blessed with a measure of beauty in her younger years, but now she was content with her plainness at the age of five-and-twenty, for she knew that it would be less likely to draw attention from unwanted suitors.

She could hear the laughter and merriment downstairs, dreading the thought of being forced to associate with Mr. Destler. She hoped that the other guests could entertain her with conversation, instead.

Mr. Levour was hosting a celebratory dinner that included Mr. Destler, Ms. Thornfield and her father, Mr. Giovanni, and his beloved friend and conductor, Mr. Johnson. All had arrived in the foyer, save for his daughter Cora, who expressed her apologies upon entering the room.

Erik noted the light pink dress that she wore and how her features did not reflect those of someone eager for a dinner party. He determined that she must not have been fond of such social gatherings, or perhaps it was his presence that had made it so unbearable for her.

Nevertheless, Mr. Levour and his daughters were seated directly across from Erik; Ms. Thornfield and her father to the right of him, and Mr. Johnson to the left. Giovanni sat beside Gisette.

Light conversation was made as the first course was served. Blanche seemed to pay close attention to him, something that did not escape Cora's notice.

Cora could only presume that Mr. Destler's money and good looks were attractive to other women, and she smiled, knowing how difficult he was to get along with. The spoiled and enviable Ms. Thornfield would have a sudden realization soon enough.

"Mr. Destler, you are so talented! And-dare I say-handsome. We are all astonishment that you have removed your mask for us and revealed yourself! It rather takes the amusement away of guessing what sort of sordid tale lay beneath," she mused.

Erik's posture instinctively tensed, unbeknownst to the party. He did not wish for people to guess what lay beneath his mask, for such curiosity would certainly have led to feeling compelled to rip it from his face. He was glad that he had convinced them that he was one of them, for now they would have no need for curiosity.

The public, however, still did not know his secret. He would be wise to have Cora disguise his disfigurement, even beneath the mask, in case of such unexpected revealment.

"Perhaps not all dark secrets are satisfying," he replied.

Cora saw the intensity in his hazel depths as he looked at her momentarily, wondering if she would show a hint of disgust at the thought of his dark secret. Instead, she looked down at her bisque and pretended not to notice him.

Blanche studied Erik's handsome features with a devilish smile.

"You really are quite a mystery. One that I hope to solve someday."

"Would not we all?" Mr. Levour chimed in, and the party erupted with laughter. "Nonetheless, you have brought beauty and prosperity through your music. I could not have asked for a better business partner."

"We were quite surprised when you decided to join the theatre, Ms. Thornfield," Gisette added.

"As was I," Mr. Thornfield, the older man with greying hair, agreed. "But, it is what she wants. And she is very good at it."

"Yes," Blanche said, her full pink lips revealing a smile. "I have received many compliments and suitors-you would not believe the amount of bouquets sent to me after the performance! My room is beginning to look like a garden and I find myself buried alive in roses and lilies!"

Cora gave a forced and weak smile while others chuckled. She hoped that the night would be over soon, lest she be forced to listen to Ms. Thornfield compliment herself for the entirety of the night and watch her and Mr. Destler play upon each other's egos. What a droll prospect!

"No matter, for I could never love a man who does not share my passion for music," she added, directing her flirting gaze at Erik.

Cora was amazed to find that he did not partake in boasting about himself. Instead, he remained silent.

"I cannot wait to be married!" Gisette said dreamily. "I should hope that my husband enjoys the theatre."

"Well, who could not enjoy our theatre?" Giovanni replied with his thick Italian accent. "I think our guests could not have had more pleasure if they tried. What say everyone to another ball...say, in a fortnight? It was much too fun to not repeat!"

"What a splendid idea!" Blanche agreed. "What if we were all to join in on Mr. Destler's fun and don masks?"

"A masquerade would be lovely!" Gisette exclaimed with young enthusiasm.

The table buzzed with excitement and conversations about time, place, and what to wear. Blanche turned to Erik and spoke quietly to him, "I do hope that I can claim you as a partner at least once."

Erik's heart felt light, for once. Not even a few years ago, he never would have thought to hear those words. To have a beautiful woman show interest in him was a newfound and wonderful experience.

"I could certainly never refuse a beautiful woman," he smiled before taking a sip of wine.


End file.
